


A Certain Kind of Emptiness

by dieslaudata



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Demonic Possession, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Manipulation through Sex, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Possession, Weirdmageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:43:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8127301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dieslaudata/pseuds/dieslaudata
Summary: Bill tries to get Ford to give him the equation by reminding him of the past.





	

When Bill buried his hand in Ford’s chest, for a brief moment, he thought his torture was finally over. Instinct forced his hands to reach for Bill’s wrists, his right, wet with blood and unable to close, sliding desperately across the thin black arm as his left pulled in vain. A shameful sense of resignation and relief shone through his will to survive and settled before he could properly register the absence of pain.

“What are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking with horror as the intrusion continued, painless, bloodless.

“What do you think, Fordsy?” Bill asked cheerfully and put an arm around him, pulling him closer, pushing himself against Ford’s chest, _into_ his chest.

“You can’t do that!” Ford screamed, voice thin with a panicked lack of breath. “We didn’t shake hands, we didn’t make a deal, you can’t do-”

“You’ll find there are very few things I _can’t_ do. What’s the point of rules if you can’t even break ‘em in the first place?” And with that, he vanished from Ford’s sight, leaving the man to desperately claw at his own chest, unable to accept the futility of his actions.

The next moment, Ford was overwhelmed by Bill’s presence inside of him, completely extinguishing the pain from the injuries he had suffered. With every beat of his rapidly pounding heart he felt it more intensely; Bill was under his skin, in his veins, in every cell of his body, restraining him in a way that made the chains Bill had bound him with look like a joke. Without Bill’s permission, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he couldn’t _breathe_. It filled Ford with a sense of terror he had believed he would be safe from after installing the metal plate in his head. But it also felt familiar, almost soothing. It felt… good.

It felt good. The realization made Ford sick with disgust.

“ _GET OUT_!” he screamed in his mind, but Bill didn’t react in any way. Perhaps he couldn’t hear him; perhaps his mind was still save. The thought offered some comfort, but not much. 

Through Ford’s eyes, Bill watched the bleeding of his injured hand stop. Although the wound remained, Bill effortlessly closed and opened his fist, Ford’s body obeying his commands without the slightest hint of resistance.

“Like a glove,” Bill said contently, using Ford’s mouth, Ford’s voice. “I guess it’s the extra fingers that make _all_ the difference,” he added with a wink.

A growl started building in Ford’s throat, but Bill suppressed it. Then he reached for the heavy collar around Ford’s neck and pulled it off with the casualty of removing a tie, the metal stretching in his grip if it were made of rubber. It clattered uselessly when Bill threw it against the wall.

“Come on, didn’t you miss that?”

“I di-“ _I didn’t!_ he wanted to say, but Bill cut him off, laughing.

 “So did I, Sixer. It’s like your body was made for me.” He let his hand glide over his chest making him feel the rough wool through the shirt he was wearing underneath. “Just too bad it didn’t work.”

“Then… get out,” Ford managed to say, struggling against Bill’s control. He wanted to believe he was successfully overpowering him, but he was dreadfully sure Bill was just giving the leash a little slack.

“Look at you, all eager to join the party! You think good things are waiting for you behind that door?” He made a brief motion with Ford’s hand and the wall tore open, revealing Bill’s crowd of monsters. They turned to leer at him, their predatory grins revealing their sharp teeth. Ford barely paid them any mind, too distracted by the sensation of Bill’s power flowing through his body. Another wave, another surge of magic, and the bricks knitted themselves together again. There was an undeniable allure to having such power at his fingertips. One reason more to end this immediately.

“If you’re going to kill me… you might as well do it now,” Ford spat. Bill’s response was a laugh, high-pitched and unnatural, hurting his throat. 

“Oh, Fordsy, so desperate to die a hero’s death. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He raised Ford’s hand to pet his hair in a mockery of affection, face splitting into a grin that strained his lips. “I mean, sure, it’s not the same as actually bumping off the bad guy, but you can’t really be picky after you’ve messed up, right? A perfect little ending you’ve chosen for yourself here. But yeesh, what a let-down. What a waste! You’re better than that. Hell, you almost got me. That’s quite an accomplishment. I bet it felt good, when you finally had me in your sights. Didn’t it feel good?”

When Ford stayed silent, Bill just answered for him.

“Oh, yes, it did, Bill,” he said in a breathy, needy voice. Ford felt ashamed. Ashamed that Bill was telling the truth; ashamed of how ecstatic he had felt at the thought of finally killing him, of being the one who pulled the trigger.

He wondered if Bill was worming his way into his mind after all, corroding the barrier that kept him out and squeezing through the rusty holes.

Indeed, the lack of Bill weaving his presence around his thoughts and emotions felt strange, downright uncomfortable; it made the connection feel incomplete, which wasn’t the way Ford wanted to think of it in the slightest. There was nothing to complete. He hated himself for perceiving it as something that was missing.

But he missed it so much.

Bill was stroking his cheek now, his little finger catching Ford’s lips as he moved down to the sore skin of his neck and up again. Ford couldn’t even tell anymore if he was the one breathing hard or Bill. He couldn’t tell if the shiver he felt was one of horror or pleasure. To what extent was Bill puppeteering him? Were his reactions really his own? He wanted to believe they were Bill’s.

“Well, while we’re being so honest about our feelings now, I gotta say, you really surprised me back there,” Bill said. “I didn’t think you’d last a day. We were taking bets, you know. Kryptos was rooting for you, but even he just gave you a little over a week. And yet you survived for thirty years. And now you know things even _I_ don’t know. It can be just like it used to be, you know? I know you want to tell me the equation. Remember how it was back then, when you shared your discoveries with me?”

Bill shifted, forcing Ford’s body into a kneeling position he had assumed so often in front of him, bracing himself against the ground with one hand as he kept caressing Ford’s face.

“I’m so proud of you, IQ,” he said, his empty praise sounding so sincere that Ford’s stomach turned. Was he just imagining the heat rising to his cheeks? “You got your theory completely without my help. You’re so brilliant.”

“Cut it out!” Ford managed to snap before Bill could force his mouth shut.

“Hey, rude! Interrupting my heart-to-heart with you like that. Who do you think you are?” Then he started laughing again. “Well, can’t say I don’t like the new version of you!  You really got guts.”

He let Ford’s hand wander towards his abdomen. His fingers slipped under his sweater, under his shirt, stroking his heated skin, feeling his tense muscles just with the pads of his fingers, brushing against the edges of a deep gash that went across his belly. For a couple of panicked seconds, Ford feared that Bill was going to push his fingers into the wound and through his flesh, as easily as if it was paper, and eviscerate him with his own bare hands. But his touch remained gentle, forcing old memories to resurface. It was the kind of teasing caress that had driven Ford wild back in the day, made him beg for more and offer his body to Bill to do with as he pleased, only for him to make his wildest and most shameful fantasies come true.

His body remembered it quite well too.

Ford’s breathing grew labored as the touches got more intense, Bill now pressing Ford’s entire palm against his skin. He could feel his growing erection straining against his pants. And before he could even hope that Bill hadn’t noticed, he let his hand glide towards Ford’s lap, parting his thighs as he grasped his hardness and squeezed.

Ford wanted to grit his teeth, to suppress the moan building in his throat, but Bill relaxed his jaw and let the lustful sound escape unhindered. Ford shuddered, his entire body burning up with humiliation. He couldn’t recall the last time he had even heard himself make such noises – on the run, most of his encounters had been quiet and quick, as if any second a threat might have revealed itself. And he remembered too well how Bill had encouraged him to show him his pleasure in the past, and just how gladly he had obliged, eager to satisfy his muse’s narcissistic needs. How grateful he had been for the very opportunity to do so.

“Looks like some things don’t change, eh?” Bill said, sounding pleased with himself in a way that made Ford’s skin crawl, and started fiddling with the zipper.

Ford tried to hold his hands still to prevent Bill from going any further, but he kept moving them as effortlessly as ever. There wasn’t the smallest sign that his efforts were even noticed by Bill. He could hardly believe that there had ever been a time he had not just enjoyed but craved this loss of control. He remembered It well, how foolishly grateful he had been about Bill’s offer to take over his body. How curious he had been when Bill had suggested, in an almost flirtatious tone of voice, that there was room for two. Then again, as long as he had been awake, he could have taken back control at any time. Not that he’d ever even tried – he had been too fascinated by the thought of surrendering himself to Bill, his presence filling up his body and his mind in a way that had been overwhelming, almost frightening, yet intoxicating and addicting.  It had been a kind of intimacy Ford had never experienced before or since. And it had been freeing too, like his consciousness had become part of something so much bigger than him, than humanity itself.

Now he was a prisoner in his own body, unable to recall ever feeling so powerless.

When Bill had started his “interrogation”, Ford had sworn himself to not once beg Bill for mercy, no matter what he had in store for him. His resolve faltered when Bill freed his erection and started stroking it, very lightly, without even closing his hand around it so that he could feel it twitch at the familiar caresses.

The slightest hint of a protest was extinguished in his throat, as if Bill was perfectly anticipating his words. All he let through were little gasps and moans that drove Ford to despair with shame. He started wondering if Bill was right about him after all – that he hadn’t changed in the slightest; that deep down, he still needed him. The revulsion mixed with desire made him feel dizzy and disoriented, as if reality was slipping from his grasp.

The movements of his hand continued in a slow, relaxed rhythm as the air was filled with the sound of his heavy breathing . It lulled him into an almost comfortable trance.

“Bill…”

It spilled out by accident, the result of a well-worn habit. The sound of his own voice was so unrecognizable to Ford that he couldn’t help shuddering; when was the last time he hadn’t spat out this name with hatred? The demon had allowed his name to slip past Ford’s lips and rewarded him by closing his fist around his cock, the speed of his movements increasing. Ford didn’t even try anymore to stop himself from moaning.

Bill directed his glance towards Ford’s erection. The sight of precum pearling at his tip was too much for Ford. He wanted to close his eyes or look away, but all he could do was watch as Bill started moving his hand faster and the fluid dripped over his fingers.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind doing this from time to time,” Bill said, his own voice, content with a slight edge that betrayed his eagerness, reverberating through Ford’s entire being. “It would be like back in the good old days. Except better. All you’d have to do is ask. What do you say, Sixer?”

Lust was clouding his mind, making it hard to think, but the answer was still clear as ever to him. He opened his mouth to reply, but Bill didn’t let a single syllable escape. His lips tightened.

A sudden pain exploded behind his eye and spread through his entire body, a sensation of being torn apart while his blood boiled and bubbled in his veins. His screams seemed to echo off the wall eternally.

Then the noise faded, and with it his pain. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he had doubled over, his forehead burning against the cool ground. And it took him even longer to realize that Bill was stroking his hair. That he was no longer inside him.

With his free hand, he pushed Ford upright again by his shoulder. His body didn’t protest in the slightest, his arms dangling limply at his sides, like a puppet’s. There was a pool of blood just where his head had been moments ago.

Gently, Bill slid his hand down Ford’s face and pushed his chin up so that he would look him in the eye. He seemed to shine brighter than usual, filled with an enormous power that he had given Ford a small taste of.

And now he felt weak again. Empty. Incomplete.

“Looks like your body still can’t handle this,” Bill said casually, wiping at the warm blood on Ford’s right cheek. “Eh, it’s alright. I can fix this.  If you want me to, that is.”

He moved his hand away just briefly and pain welled up in Ford’s body again, threatening to break through the dam and flood his senses. His hand shot up and he pressed Bill’s soft hand firmly against his cheek, sighing as relief set in. His grip did not lessen the slightest until his rapid heartbeat had calmed down a little.

“See, isn’t that better?” Bill let his other hand slide down Ford’s arm until he reached his wrist and guided it back to his softened cock.

“Keep going, Ford. Like you always used to,” Bill said in a low voice and moved Ford’s hand along his length, stroking him back to hardness. “Come for me.”

Ford couldn’t move. He didn’t know if his hand was trembling because he was struggling to resist the urge to follow Bill’s command or if he was trying to break out of his stupor to do just that.

“Or maybe you want me to take over again, hm? Wouldn’t that be much better?”

He could hardly bring himself to look at Bill, the sight of him filling Ford with longing and disgust. He was so close to begging him to possess him again, to fill the long-forgotten void in him he had so cruelly torn open.

Bill turned his hand and clasped Ford’s, the back of his fingers still touching the man’s cheek. A blue fire lit up, tingling pleasantly against Ford’s skin. His eyes fell shut at the sensation. It still filled him with fascination and reverence, just like the first time he’d felt it.

While the soft flames caressed his cheek, Ford wondered how hot they would burn if he refused Bill’s offer.


End file.
